


The Sound of His Name

by InnerSpectrum



Series: Mystrade is Our Division Prompts [59]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Facebook: Mystrade is our Division Fic Prompts, Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts, five things, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 19:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20069311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: There are times Mycroft hates the sound of his name...





	The Sound of His Name

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts | Shout

“Mycroft!”

There were times Mycroft hated the sound of his name: like the way his mother shouted his name, with such chiding.

Mummy slammed an open hand down on the kitchen table startling him. He was so engrossed in reading _The Art of War_ by Sun Tzu, that he had tucked in next to his math book, he missed her characteristic bump of the chair at the other end of the table that usually heralded her approach.

“Mummy that is boring. _This_ is interesting.”

“I don’t care if it’s boring. You may as well learn now that there are going to be _many_ things in your life that will bore you and you still must get them done or suffer the consequences. Now properly take the smaller absolute from the larger absolute and give it the sign of the larger absolute on these next twenty-five examples to prove your proficiency in them or you will absolutely have no dessert…” Mummy pointed to his maths assignment.

“What’s for dessert?” He asked. If it was not one of his favorites, he may be willing to forego it for a day.

“…a day for each incorrect answer times your age and I will make sure each day it’s something you really like. Now give me this.” Mummy continued as though he had not spoken as she snatched Sun Tzu away.

Mycroft blinked, just one incorrect answer meant no dessert for more than a week. “That’s harsh.”

“You’re eight you don’t know what harsh is yet. Now, do the maths while I check on your brother.” She pointed at his work book.

“Yes Mummy.”

<><><> 

“Mycroft!”

There were times Mycroft hated the sound of his name: like the way his father shouted his name with such annoyance.

Mr. Holmes shouted from his elder son from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m right here, Da.” Mycroft appeared from the powder room next to the stairs. Though he had fully expected to be summoned in that manner, he still hated it. 

“Did you tell young Washburn that if his female progenitor had the choice of fellation or coitus she chose wrong when it came to him?”

“Yes.” Mycroft admitted, “I’m fairly certain he is beyond, or more precisely below, any proper gauge for that level of ignorance. He is a waste oxygen and of semen.”

“He had to go ask his mother what you meant.” His father explained, “She came to me chagrined and highly embarrassed.”

“I would be chagrined and highly embarrassed as well if my fourteen-year-old son had to have something a ten-year-old said to him explained.” Mycroft rolled his eyes as though having proved the point he was making.

His father pinched the bridge of his nose knowing his son blatantly ignored the point he was making.

<><><> 

“Mycroft!”

There were times Mycroft hated the sound of his name: like the way his colleagues shouted his name, with such exasperation.

“Yes, Love?”

“How dare you countermand your uncle’s direct orders!” Alicia Elizabeth, the newly married Lady Smallwood stormed into the office of the minor official in British Government.

“You will apologize to my assistant when we are done, or I will give her orders to shoot you on sight if you ever step into this office in such a manner again.” Mycroft moved the mouthpiece of the phone in his hand slightly away.

“You would not _dare_!”

“You just stated I dared to countermand a direct order from my own uncle. Should we like to test the theory?” Mycroft asked placidly. The woman’s eyes narrowed at him, but she said nothing. 

He ignored her glare as he continued, “My uncle’s idiotic orders were based on incomplete data and had they been followed it would have resulted in two agents of yours and one of my operative’s being killed, two of my uncle’s people being arrested for treason, Honor’s mole going underground and a potential war breaking out between factions. There was no time to ask anyone’s opinion to avoid the catastrophe, not that I would have.”

“Your uncle will not be happy about this!”

Mycroft sighed loudly as he placed his call on speaker, “Uncle? Now that you’ve heard, anything you wish to say to me?”

He took small satisfaction in Smallwood’s surprise and chagrin.

“She’s right, I am not happy, but your actions, as usual, were correct. Good job, nephew! Alicia, you and I will speak - later.” His uncle’s voice was clear through the speakerphone before he rang out.

“Do remember to apologize to my assistant.” Mycroft made a shooing motion with one hand as he picked up papers with the other, dismissing her.

“You are a cold bastard to barely be in your mid-twenties, Mr. Holmes.”

“Antarctic and getting colder as you would never believe _Lady_ Smallwood.” He said the word _lady_ in such a way they both understood the implication that he believed her to be anything but.

<><><> 

“Mycroft!”  
“Oi!”

There were times Mycroft hated the sound of his name: like the way his brother shouted his name with such vehemence.

He could already see signs that the Irene Adler case was going more problematic than he thought. That viperous woman was surprisingly turning into quite the challenge and headache. He was grateful for Watson’s forethought to bring the needle with him. The content was proven to be something not potentially addicting to Sherlock and that took Mycroft off the edge of his worse fear. Still, his brother’s nonchalance at being drugged by her did not sit well.

A furious Sherlock and his equally furious flatmate, shouted at him for his rude behavior toward Mrs. Hudson’s well-meaning, but incredibly pointless chatter which caused him to snap at her to shut up. The woman herself glared at him justifiably offended. While he meant the words, he conceded to himself that his delivery was in fact harsher than intended.

It was a rare showing of emotions and he had apologized. When Sherlock immediately instructed the same of her, he knew it was his brother’s way of letting him know that while Mycroft was wrong in how it was said, he understood why it was said.

<><><> 

“Mycroft!”

Then there is any way that Gregory says it.

The grogginess of it first thing when he wakes like morning fog.

The laughing tease of it in the midst of a double-entendre during a midday call.

The heated breath of it as they greeted each other in the evenings after a long day.

But his favorite was the harsh shout of it as it ripped from Gregory’s throat in the throes as they took each other apart under the minight stars. 

Those are the times when Mycroft loved the sound of his name.


End file.
